


Tattoo Guns & Roses

by schmulte



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Meet-Cute, Past Drug Addiction, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29647485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmulte/pseuds/schmulte
Summary: Henry comes to Austin to escape. When he opens a tattoo parlor across the way from a flower shop run by Alex, they learn to work together to protect their neighborhood and their hearts.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 72
Kudos: 109





	1. Prologue: Austin

On the corner of North Lamar Boulevard and West 5th Street in Austin, Texas, there is a flower shop nestled right in the heart of the Market District. Within walking distance is a Whole Foods and a taco restaurant, and a beautiful view of Lady Bird Lake from the bay window. 

Across the strip, there is another cluster of shops, separated by a small, lush walking path covered in green grass and sun-baked benches. In that second strip sits an empty storefront, with a large glass door that just peeks into the flower shop across the street. 

It’s a beautifully charming building, ivy-covered red brick and large windows, polished original hardwood and industrial ceilings. There’s a sleek black counter at the front for a reception area and plenty of space on the brick for a sign. It’s as if the perfect shop crawled out of a dream and listed itself right there, just for Henry to find. He smiles to himself and clicks _ submit _ .

It should be strange, to see how his entire life fits into a single suitcase and a laptop bag; twenty five years of living folded neatly and packed away. Some of it is books.  _ Most  _ of it is books. But it doesn’t  _ feel _ strange, as he closes the door to his one-bedroom flat and picks up the dog-carrier where David is snoozing. This is what his life looks like before he starts living it; these are remnants of a life half-lived. It leaves plenty of room for the new one up ahead.

If you had told Henry five years ago that he’d be moving to the United States, he’d believe you up until the point of when you told him where; to the point where instead of New York or Boston or DC, you would say: Austin. Now, there’s nothing wrong with Austin. It’s a fine place, if a bit hot for Henry’s liking, but it’s not bad. It’s just not what he had pictured for himself. Rainy days and brownstones and snowy winters, that was where Henry five years ago imagined himself, but this is not that Henry.

Henry of the present takes a taxi to the airport, and then a plane from one airport to the other, and then another taxi from the airport to his new apartment on South Lamar Boulevard, a seven minute drive from the market district and that perfect shop just across Lady Bird Lake. Tonight he’ll watch it from his window as he eats takeout from the Tex-Mex place down the road and wonders just what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

In the morning, he walks David around the neighborhood, takes a long, hot shower, and successfully ignores ten missed calls and four texts from various members of his family. He can’t help the flash of guilt that instantly manifests itself as a headache above his left eyebrow which does not go away even after Henry kicks the coffee table out of frustration. He bypasses the missed calls and presses the  _ 1 _ on his speed dial.

“Henry?” Shaan’s voice greets him and he feels his shoulders instantly relax. 

“Shaan,” he breathes. “I’m sorry to bother you, it’s probably the middle of the night there--”

“What’s wrong?” Henry feels his breath catch in his throat, and suddenly the apartment is too small, the air conditioner too loud, the walls closing in as David howls and laps at his toes. “Henry. Where are you right now? Five things you can see.”

“I- I--”

“Five things, Henry.” 

He takes a deep, rattled breath. Five things. Five things. Five things. 

“David. And...and the kitchen. The stand mixer, I...I was going to try baking something.”

“Good, Henry. Two more things.”

“My mug, and. And the coffee maker.” Shaan keeps saying his name in every sentence, and the quiet rage it fills him with slowly dies down as he names four things he can feel, three things he can hear, two things he can smell. By the time it’s over, Henry’s heart has slowed down to its normal rate, and when the room stops spinning it seems to get bigger. The claustrophobic feeling in his chest lifts, and he lies down on the couch and allows David to crawl up and lay on his chest. 

“Are you still there?” Shaan’s voice asks, but in a way that really says:  _ what happened? _

“I have a lot of missed calls,” He explains. His voice is a little raw, like he’s been crying, and maybe he was, a while ago. All his memories from this morning are kind of blurred together. 

“Have you talked to them since you left?”

He shuts his eyes. “I left Bea a note.”

A heavy sigh from Shaan’s end. “Do you want me to talk to you as your sponsor or as your friend?”

It’s easy to forget, sometimes, that Shaan isn’t only Henry’s friend. Sometimes his mind will create scenarios of how they could have met in another life. Maybe they’d both be stuck in an elevator at the same time, or reach for the same book at the store and talk about it over a cup of coffee. Would they even be friends, if they had met somewhere else? Would he be able to get past Henry’s walls if it weren’t his job?

“Henry? Are you still there?”

“Friend. As my friend, please, Shaan.”

Shaan sighs; Henry can imagine him, sitting up in bed, glasses pushed up on his face as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t owe your family shit. That being said, disappearing to a different continent with only a cryptic note left to your sister as warning was not the smartest decision.”

“I didn’t want them to think--”

“I know. Have you spoken to Pez?”

He rubs a spot behind David’s ears and doesn’t even mind when the dog licks his arm. “He knows where I’ve gone.”

“Call him soon. Cutting people off can be dangerous, you know that- you at least need your friends.”

“Friend,” Henry corrects, emphasizing the  _ d _ .

“You should try to get out. Austin is supposed to have incredible night life- you could make some more friends. What about your neighbors?”

“There’s an old woman with a poodle next door, but I’m not entirely convinced she knows that our two countries are no longer at war.”

“What about your neighbors at the shop?”

The image of the flower shop pops into his mind. He remembers that feeling in his gut, the tugging at the invisible string just below his navel, the feeling that told him it  _ had _ to be this one. It had to be Austin, it had to be now, it had to be this shop and nothing else. He takes another deep breath.

“I’ll introduce myself tomorrow.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you or a loved one are struggling with addiction, please contact me at Katherine.schulte@youngpeopleinrecovery.org and I will set you up with resources available in your state and put you in contact with a local support group


	2. Queen Mary Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He goes to the shop early the next day. It’s not as if he had to get up early- he’d barely slept at all, up all night going back and forth between episodes of Bake-Off and staring at the oven with existential dread. It’s not scientifically proven that cookies will bake faster if you stare at them all night, but Henry is nothing if not stubborn.

He goes to the shop early the next day. It’s not as if he had to get up early- he’d barely slept at all, up all night going back and forth between episodes of Bake-Off and staring at the oven with existential dread. It’s not scientifically proven that cookies will bake faster if you stare at them all night, but Henry is nothing if not stubborn. 

The cookies end up burned and the best of them carefully sorted into a reusable container after the blackest parts have been removed with a butter knife (David was quite upset at the waste of a perfectly good cookie, but his doggy brain didn’t understand that chocolate would kill him). 

It’s six in the morning by the time he makes it out the door, David at his heels. It takes some maneuvering to get the dog in his specialized carrier, and he’ll definitely owe him a treat when they get to the shop for the trouble. The Texas air is hot and dry and the sun bakes down on Henry’s layers, and he’s sure his hair will be a sweaty mess when he takes his helmet off. The engine is louder than his liking for this early in the morning, but it doesn’t seem to wake anything on the sleepy street where his shop is situated. He takes a moment to idle in the neat stretch of bike path centered in the lush green and stares at the brand new sign adorning the brick, reading  _ Queen Mary Tattoos,  _ a name suggested to him as a joke that ultimately stuck. He sends a picture of the sign to Pez.

Henry has never been killed by hitmen before, so he doesn’t really know what it feels like in the moments before you’re killed by a hit man; he thinks, though, that being snuck up on by Alex Claremont-Diaz is the closest he’ll get. 

“Excuse me,” a voice says, and Henry nearly falls off his motorcycle. 

Standing on the other side of the motorcycle, arms crossed, right eyebrow lifted, is the most beautiful person Henry has even seen. He doesn’t know if it’s the soft gold of the morning light or the result of yet another night without sleep, but something about him seems angelic. The sun streams through brown curls and makes tan skin seem to glow; the sleeves of a crisp white button up are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the lean muscle of forearms and strong fingers tapping impatiently against skin. His lips are pink and plump and gorgeous, even now as they twist into an annoyed sort of frown, and his eyes have little flecks of green in them, he thinks. 

It takes him a moment to realize he’s staring. “Hello,” he tries, only wincing a little bit when his voice cracks. The other man looks unimpressed. 

“Hi. You mind turning off that motorcycle? Some of us like our air and noise unpolluted before seven.”

“Oh--” Henry scrambles to take the keys from the ignition and lets David out of his carrier; the dog takes a grateful stretch before running off to relieve himself by a bench. The man gives the smallest of smirks. 

“Hope you’ve got a bag or something in that thing. People don’t much like stepping in dog crap this early in the morning.”

The man has a slight southern drawl that clings to the ends of his words that makes  _ something  _ sound more like  _ somethin,  _ and for some reason it makes Henry blush even when he’s talking about dog poop. It’s wonderful and awful and amazing and nauseating all at once. He wonders briefly if he should run inside and fix his hair. 

“I’ve got it covered. I’m sorry for the noise, I didn’t expect anyone else to be here this early. I thought most of the shops didn’t open until ten.”

The man shrugs nonchalantly. “What can I say, I’m a bit of an insomniac.” He peers at the store behind Henry. “Are you the one who bought this place?” 

“I am.”

The man whistles low, but the frown twists back up into a smirk; it makes Henry’s knees weak. “Ballsy. I like it.”

Henry raises an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”

The man shakes his head and extends a strong hand; there’s band-aids wrapped around the tips of his fingers. “Nevermind that. I think we got off on the wrong foot; my name’s Alex.” Henry reaches out and shakes his hand, feeling like he’s just stuck his finger in a wall socket.

“Henry.” David comes back over and starts licking at Alex’s legs, and he laughs, somehow full yet tinkling, and crouches down to scratch behind his ears, mumbling  _ who’s a good dog?  _ in a high-pitched voice. “Which one do you own?”

Alex nods his head backwards towards the flower shop. The  _ flower shop _ . The beautiful little place that had tugged at that spot below Henry’s naval, with its dark green walls and its porch swing swaying lightly in the breeze, flowers arranged in pots of varying sizes and shapes and colors. Looking at him now, Henry can see that it’s so very  _ Alex _ .

“Well,” he says, standing up and wiping his hands on his jeans. “I’ll see you around, Henry.”

“Oh, wait--” he digs around in his laptop bag before producing the plastic container of cookies, which Alex regards warily. “I made these. For you. They’re a little burned…”’

Alex gingerly takes the container, but his smile is genuine. “Oh. Thanks. No one’s ever baked me cookies before.”

“Well, they should.”

Alex smiles a little wider and disappears into the flower shop. 

His first day is slow- he shops online for some comfortable furniture for the waiting room and interviews a few candidates for the front desk. He works on some sketches for the couple pre-bookings he has, but his pencil keeps wandering to his view out the glass doors. Alex, wearing a cute little black apron, smiling and sorting flowers, handing arrangements to customers, pricking his fingers on rose thorns. A woman comes in to bring him lunch, and Henry hopes she’s a sister rather than a girlfriend. David judges him from his dog bed in the corner.

When closing time rolls around, Henry has finished no sketches for paying customers, but many of Alex. Alex’s hands, Alex’s smile, the dimple of his chin, the bangaed tips of his fingers as he delicately arranges a bouquet. 

The next morning he plans on being productive, but there’s a plastic container of cookies on the front step of the shop, with a sticky note decorated with a smiley face. He shares them throughout the week with his new receptionist, Nora. They’ve quickly become friends, and it’s nice to have someone here in Austin, but Henry could do without the teasing. He’s been holding on to the plastic container for nearly a week, but hasn’t quite worked up the courage to go return it. It’s a bit sad, really- he rides a motorcycle, he has tattoos; returning a simple piece of plastic shouldn’t be this scary.

“Henry, really,” Nora sighs. “It’s not a big deal. Just go over there, return the container, start up a conversation, ask him out for coffee, get married and have lots of babies--”

“Alright, alright!! Just...watch the shop, alright? Make sure David doesn’t get into too much trouble.” 

Nora gives him a sarcastic little mock-solute, and he wonders briefly why he hasn’t fired her, but then he’s at the door of the flower shop and his hands start shaking. Alex is just inside, smiling to himself while he arranges a beautiful bouquet. He’s frozen on the doorstep when Alex looks up and waves, and  _ oh god, he’s just standing out there like an idiot _ . 

He thinks he blacks out, because the next thing he knows the bell above the door is jingling and he’s inside the flower shop. Alex is behind the counter in that stupidly cute apron, watching him with a raised eyebrow and pursed pink lips. 

“You okay?” he asks warily. Henry snaps himself out of it and hands over the tupperware politely. 

“I thought you might want this back. Sorry I kept it so long.”

Alex smiles at him. “S’okay. Thanks for bringing it back.”

There’s a pause, and Henry desperately searches for something to say, something to keep him here longer so he can keep looking at Alex’s beautiful face up close. His eyes land on the bouquet being arranged, and the idea hits him. 

“I think the shop could use some life,” he decides. “Could you give me some recommendations?”

Alex blinks at first, but then his smile gets wider, and relief washes through Henry. Alex turns and starts babbling about which flowers mean what and the kinds of arrangements he can do, and all Henry can do is smile and nod and say “just do whatever you think would look best.” In the end, he leaves with a vase full of daisies for the front desk that Nora raises an eyebrow at but doesn’t say anything about. 

And that becomes the routine. Every morning, Henry walks across the path to Alex’s shop and buys a bouquet. By the end of his second week, the shop is covered in flowers and he’s had four bookings. Nora eyes the flowers with judgement, but David is happy to frolic, and the customers like it, so they stay. By the third week it’s gotten a little out of hand- he’s had to install hooks in the ceiling and most of the smaller plants are hanging on macrame nets, and everything else lines the walls. It actually looks nice, to be honest, and creates a calming aesthetic, but at this point he’s spent more money on flowers than on rent, and though money is no object for Henry, it’s still a little ridiculous. 

Aside from his questionable spending habits, Henry’s transition to Austen life has been rather smooth. He’s still waking up to missed calls every night, but he hasn’t had a panic attack since that first night. Shaan and Pez are only a phone call away, and Nora is good company at the shop. He can really start to see himself spending the rest of his life here; growing old with his view of Lady Bird Lake, maybe opening a second location of Queen Mary in a few years. There’s plenty of open space; actually, maybe a little too much. He’s noticed over the past couple weeks that there aren’t many small businesses left in their little corner of the Market District. Most of the buildings sit empty or are quickly taken over by big brands. The family-owned bakery just down the street closed just last week. 

On day eighteen of his morning routine, Alex stops him at the counter, arms folded across his chest. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Henry frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Alex huffs. “Look, I appreciate the business, don’t get me wrong, but there’s no way you need fresh flowers every day.”

Henry’s mouth opens and closes a couple times, but he can’t really think of a reasonable explanation that doesn’t make him sound like a crazy person. “I-well--” Alex raises an eyebrow, and Henry sighs, defeated. The truth will have to do, even though it makes his shoulders slump and his head hang just a bit. “I...was just looking for an excuse to talk to you.”

Alex looks unimpressed. “Why didn’t you just ask for my phone number?” Henry really didn’t think about that. He says as much, and Alex laughs. “Give me your phone.”

Henry leaves with a small succulent, Alex’s number in his phone, and a smile on his face. Things are going so much better than he’d hoped, and it’s only the beginning. He can’t wait to see what happens next.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! It may seem like it's moving a little fast, but I promise there's a lot more I have planned :)


	3. It's a Wonderful Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3:02 am
> 
> Alex
> 
> what are your plans for christmas??

Henry starts to find that talking to Alex is the easiest thing in the world. He still comes in every morning to get fresh flowers for the front desk (half price, at Alex’s insistence), but it’s different, now that he’s not a nervous wreck anymore. They make easy conversation about the news or music or things happening in their little neighborhood of shops. Henry quickly discovers that Alex is a notorious busybody and just as much of an insomniac as himself; it only takes Henry a few days before he adds bringing Alex a morning coffee in exchange for the flowers to the routine. 

He makes friends with the other shop owners as well- Amy, who runs the coffee shop with her wife, Cash who owns the bar, Zahra who runs the kickboxing studio. He doesn’t go out to the bar with them no matter how many times Alex invites him, but they wave to him when he passes them on the little green patch during his breaks, and sometimes Amy will slip him a muffin or a coffee. Nora is a good receptionist and an even better friend; she’s always there to talk or distract him with funny stories, and as an Austen native, she’s up to date on all the local gossip. 

He learns a lot about Alex; his childhood growing up in Austen, the lake house his father owns that he still goes to every summer, his love of all things green and living. The woman who occasionally brings his lunch turns out to be his older sister, and the relief Henry feels at that is enormous. 

They text a lot, probably more than most adult friends do. He’ll send pictures of David or sketches of stencils for clients, and Alex will reply with a Star Wars joke or the running tally of how many times he’s pricked himself on a rose thorn that day. 

Shops are still disappearing, though. He’s noticed it more and more frequently lately, how vibrant little store fronts keep being replaced and remodeled. A man has been creeping around their little corner for a few days, poking into Amy’s cafe once in a while. Henry saw the two of them in a heated-looking argument, once, and the man hasn’t been back yet. He asks Alex about it after they’ve both closed, leaning against the brick buildings as David chases a squirrel in the green patch Henry fights the urge for a cigarette. He’ll have to call Shaan when he gets home. 

“Richards,” Alex spits in his reply, the word rolling off his tongue as if it were poison in his mouth. “He’s been trying to buy up everything in the Market District for years now; owns every building on this strip, ‘cept for your place. He raises the rent higher and higher until you have to leave, then he sells the buildings to big brands and raises the rent again. It’s awful, pushing small businesses out and making it more expensive by the day.”

“Why don’t people fight back?”

Alex shrugs and digs in the dirt with the toe of his boot. “Apparently he’s got dirt on everybody; blackmails you so you don’t fight back. I don’t know if I believe it.”

“What will you do?” Henry asks, biting his lip. “If he keeps raising the rent?”

The fire in Alex’s eyes when he looks up at him is intoxicating; Henry doesn’t even fear being burned. “He can raise it as high as he wants, I’m not leaving.”

Dread forms in the pit of Henry’s stomach. “He was at Amy’s today.”

“I know.”

“So that means--”

“Amy’s tough. She’ll make it through.” Alex says this with so much fierceness that Henry has to accept it as true. David runs back over, breaking the tension with his lazy bark and the way he nudges the back of Alex’s knees with his head. Alex bends down to scratch behind his floppy ears and cracks the smallest of smiles. 

“I’d better get home,” he says. “I’m getting some poinsettias in tomorrow, I’ll save you one?”

“You’d do that?”

Something in Alex’s smile softens, but his eyes are crinkled at the corners just the same. “Anything for my best customer.” The way he says it is more like  _ anything for you,  _ and Henry’s chest aches to watch him go. 

**3:02 am**

**Alex**

**what are your plans for christmas??**

**3:03 am**

**Watching It’s a Wonderful Life in bed with David while eating Chinese, I suppose.**

**3:03 am**

**Alex**

**that sounds incredibly depressing**

**3:04 am**

**I normally go to a friend’s place for a get-together,**

**but I’d rather not make an international flight on christmas.**

**3:05 am**

**Alex**

**fair**

**3:05 am**

**Alex**

**let me show you a good austin christmas**

**3:07 am**

**You’re not spending Christmas with your family?**

**3:08 am**

**Alex**

**nah**

**junes visiting dad in DC, mom and leo are** **going on a cruise**

**3:08 am**

**Alex**

**cmon itll be fun**

**3:09 am**

**Alright.**

Henry isn’t quite sure what an Austin Christmas really is, but it’s definitely not one with snow. It’s sixty degrees outside when he meets Alex outside the Alamo Cinema, but he’s smiling despite the inappropriate weather. Alex looks handsome in his jeans and button down, and Henry longs to reach out and touch the five o’clock shadow highlighting the sharp curve of his jaw bone. 

Their Austin Christmas is something truly magical. They watch A Christmas Story at the Alamo and Alex insists on mixing M&Ms in with their popcorn, but it’s worth it because their hands brush when they both reach in at the same time and Henry can just catch a glimpse of the blush that spreads across Alex’s cheeks. 

They go ice skating outside of a Whole Foods which Henry finds incredibly odd, and he’s terribly uncoordinated and nearly falls on his ass several times, but Alex is there by his side to hold him up. His hand is warm against the small of Henry’s back, and it stays for only a fleeting moment to keep him up but the spot burns for the rest of the night. They wander around the German Christmas market and drink far too much hot chocolate but Alex’s eyes are beautiful in the glow of the multicolored string lights. Henry has never wished so desperately for his sketchbook before; he wants to immortalize the look on Alex’s face in ink on skin. He wishes for it even more when they go see the Beethoven light show and Alex’s hand slips into his and doesn’t let go. His hand is unexpectedly soft, and Henry can feel the tiny scars on his fingertips from pricks of roses, and it’s so undeniably _ Alex  _ he could cry.

They go back to Alex’s crappy box of an apartment and watch Christmas movies on the couch and eat Chinese food, and it all just feels so wonderfully natural. It feels to Henry like they’ve been doing this their entire lives, Alex making fun of him for holding his chopsticks wrong and nearly choking on a piece of orange chicken when Henry makes an obscene joke. It’s enough to almost forget about everything else, to just be this Henry, Texas Henry who doesn’t have a care in the world besides this sweet creature next to him.

In the morning, he finds that they’ve fallen asleep on the couch together, Alex’s head against Henry’s chest and breathing softly. He allows himself a single, solitary moment to enjoy it, to watch the way that Alex’s curls move ever so gently beneath Henry’s breath, how Alex’s fingers curl into Henry’s tee shirt. Careful not to wake him, Henry slips out just to make the trip down the street to the deli for breakfast. The Christmas morning air is crisp and clear, and it feels so clean in his lungs. It’s so different from the last few Christmases of his life, either spent in rehab or at Shaan’s house. It almost feels close to Christmas as a child, when the only thing to worry about was what might be waiting beneath the tree when he woke up. 

Alex is awake when he comes back, sleep-mussed and golden. He smiles when he sees Henry, and he can’t help but smile back. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you last night,” he apologizes, though he doesn’t really look sorry. Henry shrugs as nonchalantly as he can and sets their breakfast on the coffee table. 

“Don’t be, I did too. Too much excitement for one day, I suppose.”

“You didn’t have to get us breakfast.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

They eat their breakfast in pleasant silence, and Henry nearly chokes on his croissant when Alex reaches out and swipes a bit of jam on his cheek away with his thumb. At the door, Alex hesitates, looking frantically from the ceiling to the floor. 

“I, uh...it was really nice. Hanging out with you. I had fun.”

“I did too.”

“Maybe we could...do it again sometime?” Henry feels his heart clench. 

“I’d like that.”

Alex’s smile glows. “Awesome. We’ll figure something out tomorrow?” And then he leans forward on his toes and kisses Henry on the cheek, and he thinks he might just die right there. 

He goes in to work with a spring in his step the next morning. David looks happy too, trotting along with his tongue out. The feel of Alex’s head on his chest the other night is still imprinted on his body, and the tingle of his lips on his cheek may never go away. And he’s going to see Alex again, as soon as he gets their coffee, and then they’re going to hang out again and maybe Alex will hold his hand again. Maybe he’ll even get another kiss; his heart rate speeds up just a fraction at the thought. He’s smiling so hard he thinks his face just might fall off. 

But then, he’s at the door to Amy’s coffee shop, ready to pick up his regular order for he and Alex, and his heart stops. On the door, on a crisp white sign, printed in small black font:  _ Richards Properties Inc.  _ And below, in harsh red block letters:

_ Permanently Closed _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please forgive me for any inaccuracies, I've never even been to Texas so I'm going off what the internet tells me


	4. Ambidexterous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ambidextrous, actually. Comes in handy for work.”
> 
> “And other things, I’d bet,” Alex says with a wink, and laughs when Henry nearly chokes on his water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing around a bit with canon, bear with me! Next chapter will have some potentially triggering stuff- it's mostly background for Henry, so the story will still make sense if you need to skip it. Your comments are all so so nice and appreciated!

Though he won’t admit it, Henry knows that the closing of Amy’s cafe is getting to Alex. It shows in the way his leg restlessly bounces up and down on the park bench, his little comments about how shitty the coffee from the new Starbucks is, the way that his bright smiles have dimmed just a little. The whole neighborhood feels the absence deeply; the weight of it hangs low in the air over all of them. 

The only bright spot in all of this is Alex. Christmas was their turning point, and since then, their relationship has edged closer and closer to something akin to romance. The two of them flirt in their texts and early morning phone calls, and most of their time outside of work is spent on Alex’s threadbare couch with a bowl of popcorn and a movie playing. Henry hasn’t slept over since Christmas- it’s a line he won’t cross until they’re something more official -but sometimes Alex will rest his head on Henry’s shoulder or slip their hands together. 

“Alex?” Henry asks one night, with Alex half asleep with his head on his shoulder and _Titanic_ playing on the television. 

“Hm?” Henry pulls away so he’s facing Alex, looking into those curious brown eyes and the one eyebrow that’s perpetually raised at him. “What’s up?”

He takes a deep breath. “Would you...would you like to go out sometime?”

Alex’s brow furrows. “Like, on a date?” Panic runs through Henry, chilling his blood and turning his tongue to lead. 

“I- yes.” Alex is silent, and Henry scrambles to save what’s left of his dignity. “Forget I said anything, let’s just go back to the movie--” 

“Wait, Henry--” And then he’s frantically searching for the remote, and as he’s desperately looking anywhere but Alex, he feels two soft hands cover his own, and sees Alex smiling at him, and he stills. “You didn’t let me finish.” Henry can only swallow, and Alex affectionately rolls his eyes. “Of course I’ll go out with you, you complete idiot.”

The bluntness of it forces a laugh out of Henry. “Was it that obvious?”

“No offense, but you might be the most oblivious person I’ve ever met.” 

Henry laughs on purpose, loud and full, and it feels as if all the weight’s been lifted from his shoulder. “None taken.”

“C’mon, let’s finish the movie.” 

He feels a little mismatched when he goes to pick Alex up for their date, chinos and a button down with a tie matched with his motorcycle boots and a helmet. He has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows to show off his sleeve, and even filled in his eyebrows a little just for an extra edge. He fears he may have desperately miscalculated when Alex freezes upon seeing the motorcycle. 

“Alex?” he asks, trying to gouge the other man’s expression. “Are you alright?”

Alex clears his throat, and Henry doesn’t miss the blush that creeps up his neck from underneath his polo. “Yep. Never been better.”

Henry holds out the spare helmet with a wry smile. “Hop on, then.”

For his first time on the back of a bike, Alex is a trooper. He holds on tight to Henry’s waist and laughs when they take a particularly sharp turn; he has the energy of a small child at Disneyland, and it amazes Henry how endearing he finds it. His hair is a complete mess after they’ve taken their helmets off, and Henry takes the opportunity to run his hands through thick, dark curls. 

He lets Alex lead their conversation throughout dinner- he’s full of an endless supply of topics and Henry is content to sit and listen. Alex is a wonder of speech, gesticulating wildly with his hands and getting a few raised eyebrows from other diners when he gets too excited. He looks so handsome out of his work clothes, his polo shirt revealing miles of creamy tan skin that is just begging to be a canvas. 

“Henry? You okay?” Alex is looking intently at him, arms folded in front of him on the table, and Henry reassures him with a smile and a _yes, love_ that has both their cheeks darkening. One of Alex’s hands leaves its spot on the table to trace Henry’s right forearm. “Did you do this yourself?” Then, after Henry nods, “are you left handed? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Ambidextrous, actually. Comes in handy for work.”

“And other things, I’d bet,” Alex says with a wink, and laughs when Henry nearly chokes on his water. “What do these mean?”

“Oh- it’s all terribly boring, really.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be modest. What about that one?” A bandaged finger traces the outline of a round folly temple, simply done in clean, black lines. It’s one of Henry’s favorites. 

“It’s called the Temple of Apollo; it was actually built by another man named Henry, if you can believe that.”

“Does it mean anything?”

“Ah, well...don’t laugh.”

Alex raises three fingers in the air. “Scout’s honor.”

“It’s where they shot the proposal scene in the 2005 _Pride and Prejudice_ movie.”

“So you like Jane Austen?” Alex asks without even the smallest hint of judgement, and Henry’s muscles relax. 

“She’s my favorite author.”

Alex hums and traces the outline. “So how does a Jane Austen-reading posh boy like you end up as a tattoo artist in Texas?”

“It’s...complicated. I went through a bit of a rough patch a few years ago. Art was always my outlet for stress, but I hadn’t considered seriously pursuing it until then. And Texas, well...I needed to get as far from London as possible.” It’s not a complete lie, but it’s obvious from Alex’s expression that he knows it’s not the full truth. Still, he doesn’t press the topic further, and they’re quickly swept up by dessert and a heated debate about the Great British Bake-Off. He leaves Alex at the door to his apartment with a kiss on the cheek and doesn’t feel ashamed about his blush. He’s still in his good mood when Shaan calls, greeting him with a more cheerful _hello_ than usual for this late at night. 

“I take it the date went well, then?” Shaan asks, the sound of his smile radiating through the phone. 

“It did, I think. I’d really like to see him again.”

“Good, good. Any difficult topics come up?”

Henry hesitates. He really doesn’t want to pull down his good mood right now, but sobriety isn’t meant to be entirely convenient. “He asked how I got into tattooing and ended up in Texas.”

“And how did you handle it?”

“I...better, I think. I didn’t freeze up. I told him I went through a rough patch.”

“That’s good, Henry. You don’t owe anyone your story.” 

“I know.”

“But if you’d like to have a serious relationship with this man, you may want to tell him eventually.”

“I know, I’m just…”

“If he can’t accept the truth, he wasn’t worth it in the first place. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Henry.”

He releases a heavy sigh and crouches down to give David a belly rub. “Thank you, Shaan. Did you need to talk as my sponsor or my friend?”

“Oh, yes, I needed your new address.”

“Oh,” something sinks down to the pit of Henry’s stomach. 

“Two years is quite the accomplishment, Henry. I know it’s a difficult anniversary for you, but you have every right to be proud of yourself.”

“Right.”

“I’m sure Bea would be happy to hear the news.”

“I can’t- I’m not--” 

“Just think about it, Henry.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. I’ll text you my address.”

He hangs up without waiting for a response. Two years. 730 days since...since then. He should tell Bea. He should tell Alex. Oh god, how is he going to tell Alex?

  
  



	5. 2 Years Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry, two years ago. CW for implied past attempt, references to addiction, drug use, rehab, blood, and vomit. This is just background, so you won't miss anything if you need to skip this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a real rough chapter to write, kind comments are appreciated! I promise there will be fluff next chapter

_ The first thing Henry feels when he wakes up is the headache- it’s been persistently coming and going above his right eyebrow for days, and this morning it is sharper than before, pounding behind his eyes and making the bright light hurt. Dust fills his lungs as he inhales from his spot on the musty carpet. The smell of smoke still hangs in the air from last night, tobacco and marijuana scent hanging low in the air. Someone is asleep on the couch, and their long hair hangs down over and tickles the back of Henry’s neck. His headache intensifies as he tries to remember the events of last night.  _

_ He was angry, he knew that, but there was rarely a day back then where he wasn’t; anger was the only constant in Henry’s life, once upon a time. There was a fight- probably with Philip or his mother -and he had gone out. Did he drive his motorcycle here? Did he take the tube? _

_ Something sticky is on his face and beneath his jumper; dimly, he registers that it may be blood. His own or someone else’s he doesn’t know. Henry was always fighting, those days. A boot nudges his arm, and he failed to suppress a groan as he looks up at its owner. If he were more aware of his surroundings, Henry’s heart may have stopped for a fraction of a moment. _

_ “Pez…?” _

_ His best friend, tall and lanky-limbed, does not look happy to be waking Henry up on the floor of a stranger’s apartment. His usual jovial smile is gone, replaced by a deep-set frown, and his mood appears to be reflected in his clothing- usually bright colors and exotic fabrics have been replaced by black sweatpants and a tee shirt. He drops a sweatshirt on the floor besides Henry’s face before crossing his arms over his chest.  _

_ “Put that on and get up. We’re leaving.” _

_ It takes him a while to fully wake up. He’s groggy as he slips the sweatshirt on, follows Pez down to his car. He’s forced to eat a granola bar only to beg Pez to pull over so he could vomit it up five minutes later before they park in a warehouse parking lot. Henry rubs the spot above his eyebrow.  _

_ “Jesus, Henry,” Pez breathes. “What the fuck happened to you?” Henry finds the strength to shrug; The sunlight burns his retinas. Pez rolls his eyes. “Do you know how I spent all of last night? I stayed up until three in the morning fielding calls from your entire family and driving all over London looking for you. Bea was looking for you, Philip was looking for you, your mum almost called the police.” _

_ “You didn’t have to,” Henry snaps. “I’m an adult, I don’t need a bloody search party every time I want to have a little fun.” _

_ Pez’s frown deepens. “Do you remember where you were supposed to be last night?” Vaguely, Henry could picture a conversation had previously, but the details were fuzzy. He shakes his head, no. “You were supposed to be with Bea. Detoxing. Getting clean, remember?” _

_ Guilt was not a feeling in Henry’s vocabulary then, but later on, he’d register it as something he  _ should _ have felt in that moment. Doing that to anyone, but especially Bea, must have been difficult.  _

_ “You need to start taking this seriously, Hen. It’s like you’re not even trying--” _

_ “And what if I’m not? What if I don’t want to try, Percy?” _

_ “No one gives a flying fuck about what you  _ want _ , Henry. I’m not going to sit here while you slowly kill yourself.” _

_ “Fuck off, Pez, I hardly did anything last night.” _

_ Pez’s frown turns into something cruel and sad. He regards Henry as a disappointed parent might look at their child who broke curfew. “Show me your arms, then.” Henry stills, and Pez rolls his eyes. “That’s what I thought.” _

_ Henry says nothing, just looks down at his shoes; they stand out too much on the interior of Pez’s nice car, ratty old converse with deep, mysterious stains. He needs a shower. He needs a drink. Pez’s voice is softer when he speaks again, a hand on Henry’s shoulder only lightly squeezing.  _

_ “We’re worried about you, Henry. You can’t go on like this forever.” _

_ Forever. Does he want to do this forever? Does he want to spend the rest of his life waking up on someone else’s carpet with blood on his sweater? Does he want to spend forever covering up track marks and surviving off stale beer and molly, trading favors for sleeping on couches? Does he want to die?  _

_ “Henry. This isn’t you.” _

_ Henry sniffs and wipes his nose. He hadn’t realized it had been running, but it makes sense. “Was Bea worried?” _

_ “Yeah,” Pez sighs. “You...you said some awful things to her, Haz. You owe her an apology.” _

_ “I know she’s only trying to help, but...I’m just so  _ angry _ all the time.” The hand on his shoulder squeezes.  _

_ “I know. But this isn’t the way to handle it. Your dad wouldn’t have wanted this.” He pauses, shifts in the driver’s seat. “I think you need to go back to the hospital.” _

_ Henry jerks away, nearly hitting his head on the window as he does. He’s wide awake now, alert as he can be, though the edges of his vision are still blurry. “No. No, absolutely not.” _

_ “Henry--” _

_ “It’s not that this time. I’m not...I’m not going to try again.” _

_ Pez doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he presses his lips into a thin line, and gives a curt, slight nod. “Therapy, then. And rehab. I have a friend I can call.” _

_ “I think I need to throw up again.” _

_ Pez takes him to his mother’s home, his headache pounding and sharp and dull all at the same time. His family is there: Philip, looking uncharacteristically ruffled, pacing up and down the living room, his mother fixing tea like she always does when she’s upset, Bea on the phone, speaking in hushed tones. Catherine sees him first, eyes going wide only for a moment before she’s throwing her arms around his neck and thanking Pez for finding him. Then she’s fretting over him, running her fingers through his hair and looking pointedly at the blood on his face with sympathy.  _

_ “Look at you, my darling…” _

_ “I’m alright, mum. I’m sorry I worried you.” _

_ Philip joins them as Pez whisks Catherine away, arms folded over his chest, tie loosened and dress shirt tucked in askew. He looks like he hasn’t slept his days, and so remarkably unlike himself that it scares Henry a little bit. _

_ “There’s blood on your face,” he says matter-of-factly, and familiar rage bubbles in Henry’s chest.  _

_ “Wonder how it got there.” _

_ “Don’t be a dick. You had us worried sick.” _

_ “I wasn’t aware you cared so much, Pip.” _

_ Philip’s face hardens. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that, not to me, not after everything you’ve done.” _

_ Before either brother can start throwing punches, Bea is there, pulling Henry into a quick hug and diffusing the tension with a “Henry, thank god.”  _

_ “Bea, whatever I said last night, I am so sorry--” _

_ “All forgiven,” she says with a sad smile. “I know you weren’t yourself.” _

_ “Don’t make excuses for him, Beatrice,” Philip comments bitterly.  _

_ Henry rolls his eyes. “Go fuck yourself, Phil--” _

_ “Enough,” Bea interrupts again. “Both of you. I just got off the phone with Pez’s friend. He’s ready whenever you are, Henry.” _

_ Silence falls around them as all eyes fall on Henry. Is this what his life has come to? His entire family, his only friend, gathering and holding vigil while he’s out partying all night? Philip looking ruffled for the first time in his entire life? He doesn’t know if he can go on like this, seeing the pain in his mum’s eyes, the disappointment in Pez’s voice? _

_ “I suppose I won’t have to do any packing,” he tries to joke. He has a backpack somewhere with an extra pair of jeans and a toothbrush; he may have left it at the party last night. Everything else has either been sold or stolen, not that he can remember much of what he owned before.  _

_ “I went out and got you some things,” Catherine offers from her spot standing by Pez. “There’s a bag packed for you whenever you’re ready.” _

_ Henry swallows. That’s that, then. “Can I take a shower first?” _

_ The drive is silent. They’re all squished into Pez’s sports car, a new backpack in Henry’s lap, lovingly packed by his mother. She even got him a new phone.  _

_ “I know it’s not very high-tech,” his mother explains. “But you’ll be able to make calls and texts. The center will take it for the first seven days, and then you can have it back. All of our numbers are programmed in already.” _

_ Henry’s heart feels numb. “Thanks, mum. I’ll call every night.” _

_ “Do what you think is best, love.” _

_ “You’ll like Shaan,” Pez supplies when they pull up to the curb. “He’s like you, in a lot of ways.” _

_ That doesn’t necessarily make Henry feel any better, but the effort is appreciated. He stares up at the building as a tall Indian man walks out the front door, a greyhound trotting by his side. Henry swallows.  _

_ “Are you ready?” Bea asks.  _

_ He doesn’t think he could tell the truth, so he doesn’t say anything at all. He says his goodbyes and gives hugs, lets his mom fret just a bit more and make sure he has everything he needs in his backpack. The man with the dog holds out his hand.  _

_ “You must be Henry. My name is Shaan, I’ll be your group leader here.” Tentatively, Henry takes the hand and shakes. The greyhound sniffs at his shoes and nudges her head against Henry’s jeans. “Ah, and this is Maggie.” _

_ “Why is she nudging me like that?” Henry asks. Shaan smiles tightly. _

_ “Maggie is a service dog. She can tell you’re nervous.” _

_ “I’m not--” _

_ “It’s alright. Everyone's a little scared at first, that’s why we have Maggie here.” The dog licks at his hands, and the slightest of smiles spreads on his face. Shaan pauses and gives him a moment before asking, “Are you ready, Henry?” _

_ Henry looks back up at the imposing building, mouth dry. He thinks of Pez, of his mother, Bea, and Philip. Of his father. The blood on his face, the vomit on his shoes.  _ Be brave _ , he tells himself.  _ For once in your miserable life, be brave.  _ He looks back at Shaan’s face and nods. _

_ “I’m ready.” _

  
  



	6. Find Proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So what do I do? Talk to him and ask him politely to stop blackmailing you all?”
> 
> He means it as a joke, but when he looks around the room, everyone is looking at him intently and seriously. Alex’s eyes are hopeful and pleading, and the unafraid part of Henry says he’s right, that it’s time to be brave again. He looks to Zahra, who shrugs, but the determination is visible in her features.
> 
> “Well,” she says. “It’s a start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for implied self-harm, mentions of implied previous relapse  
> Other than that, some much-needed fluff after last chapter!

Three rings sound from the phone. Three sets of the same generic ringtone, alerting Henry to a call. Bea’s phace, lit up and smiling in an ever-still photograph, lighting up the screen. Alex, nestled against his chest, groans and turns over, mumbles something that is most likely a complaint about the early hour or the noise. Henry presses a kiss to the top of brown curls and whispers a quiet apology before gently removing himself from the tangle of limbs and blankets and slipping silently out to the balcony. He waits two more rings before answering, careful to lower the volume so as to not wake Alex inside. 

“Henry,” Bea breathes urgently on the other end. Already he can feel the constriction of the walls around his heart as his chest tightens and collapses in on itself. He counts five things he can see; the balcony belonging to his neighbor with the poodle, the cars below, that’s two. The potted plants in the windowboxes Alex picked out himself, his phone, his tattoos. Five. 

“Hi, Bea,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry I haven’t picked up your other calls.”

“What happened? Are you alright?”

He glances through the balcony door at the sleeping figure inside. “I’m alright.”

“Good,” Bea sighs. “Now I won’t feel bad for yelling at you.” 

“I’m sorry.” And he is- heart wrenchingly so, but he doesn’t say he wishes he hadn’t left, because he doesn’t. 

“What the bloody hell were you thinking? Leaving in the middle of the night, leaving a fucking  _ note  _ telling me you’re moving to another country?”

“I thought…” he takes a deep breath, pinches the bridge of his nose. He really needs a cigarette; he’ll have to go out for nicotine patches before Alex wakes up. “I just wanted to do something by myself, for once.”

“You could have told me.” He could tell a lie, here. To say he didn’t want to worry her, or that he wasn’t sure he’d really go. But lies have never gotten Henry anywhere in life. 

“I knew you’d try to stop me,” he tells the truth. “And I knew I’d stay, if you asked.”

“Does Shaan know?”

“He knows. He’s not happy, but he knows.”

“You know what he said about big changes, Henry. Do you want another relapse?”

“Of course not,” he snaps, and he instantly regrets it when he hears her sharp intake of breath and sees the sleeping figure inside shift beneath the covers. He lowers his voice. “Of course not. I just needed to prove to myself that I could do something on my own, and I needed to get away from London. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I do,” and she does. “I just wish you’d answered my calls.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“The anniversary is coming up.”

He swallows. “I know.”

“Just...ask for help if you need it, yeah? And call mum back.”

“I will. I can’t guarantee today, but...I’ll call.”

“I love you, you prat.”

The glass door makes its characteristic squeaking sound as it slides open behind him, Alex’s bare feet quietly padding on the wood of the deck. 

“I love you too. I have to go.”

Long arms wrap around his middle as he hangs up the phone and slides it into the pocket of his pajama pants. Alex places gentle kisses to his shoulder blades, and he feels like he can breathe again. Alex’s chest is warm against his back, and it rumbles with the scratchiness of sleep as he says, “come back to bed.” 

Alex spends more time at Henry’s apartment than his own, nowadays, and Henry would prefer to keep it that way. Alex’s apartment is too cramped, too crumbly, too dark for a person like him to live in. The neighborhood worries Henry, and there’s not enough light for all the plants Alex wants. He deserves a balcony with window boxes and a refrigerator that works all the time and a kitchen with enough room to cook in and the company of David on his morning runs. Falling asleep to the sound of soft breathing and waking up with his arms around Alex is an added bonus. 

He’d slept over last night, after their date, which wasn’t really a date at all; Henry doesn’t think most people would consider cataloguing inventory at a flower shop as a date, necessarily, but he’d enjoyed it nevertheless. The flowers weren’t the exciting part- it was Alex, eyes bright and hands wandering, holding up a stem and saying _this is a_ _gillyflower, smell it, you’ll love it_. He had loved it, but that wasn’t what had made him smile and kiss Alex senseless in the back room. Afterwards they’d gotten takeout and stumbled their way to Henry’s bed, and here they are, on the balcony at sunrise, Alex’s lips tracing mindless shapes through the fabric of Henry’s tee shirt. A perfect beginning to follow a perfect ending. 

“Hen?” Alex’s voice breaks through, muffled against his shoulder. “You went somewhere else for a second, babe.”

Henry smiles and turns around, hands immediately going up to find familiar purchase at the nape of Alex’s neck. He loves this about Alex- how, even without looking at him, he can sense exactly how Henry is feeling, pinpoint the exact moment when his thoughts leave his body, even if only for a moment. He’s always there to bring him back too, if he needs it. 

“I’m here, love,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Alex is wearing one of his old Eton sweatshirts, grey color faded and sleeves far too long for his arms; Henry never wants him to take it off. 

“Who were you talking to?” Alex asks, the middle of his brow furrowed just slightly against the rising sun. 

“Only Bea, love. Hard time of year, you know, she just wanted to check in.” It’s not a  _ total  _ lie, but it isn’t the truth, either, and the idea of lying to Alex in any amount makes something black twist in the pit of his stomach. 

Alex only nods with understanding and rests his cheek against the beat of Henry’s heart. He had told him everything he could, about his father, about his death right after Henry had graduated college. He knows it was hard for him, that Henry loved his father; how he had watched him slowly die, and in turn wanted to slowly die because he had watched it. He knows Henry took it hard and that is all. He sees the pale lines of old scars on the tops of his thighs and doesn’t ask questions, just presses fluttering kisses to them and whispers praises against the marred skin. 

“Any bookings today?” he asks instead. He shakes his head, no, and can already see the cogs in Alex’s brain working.

“Shop’s closed today. We don’t have to be at the bar for a few hours…”

Henry raises an eyebrow. “And what do you suggest we do with this ample time?” He’s answered with the tug of his shirt being gripped by two strong hands and a wolfish grin.

“I have a few ideas.”

The meeting at the bar is a spontaneous one, arranged in a hasty text to the neighborhood group chat, but from what Henry can gather, it’s been inevitable for months. The neighborhood outrage over RIchards has been accumulating steadily, but it seems that Amy’s exile had been the last straw. The small business owners on their little corner gather, Zahra and Cash among them, and Nora for moral support. The atmosphere is distinctly eerie when Henry and Alex arrive, all business and heavy. No one is smiling, all gathered in a large, circular booth in the corner. Henry lets Alex slide in first and immediately focuses his attention on Zahra, in the middle of speaking to the group.

“Something needs to be done,” she says in her usual no-nonsense tone. “At this rate, all of us will be gone by February.”

“What should we do?” Cash asks. 

“What  _ can _ we do?” Hunter, from the book shop, says defeatedly. “He’s not doing anything illegal.”

“Blackmail _ is _ illegal, dickhead,” Alex cuts in. Hunter rolls his eyes. 

“We have no proof.”

“Then we’ll find proof,” Henry offers. All eyes turn to him, sympathetic, but not quite understanding. 

“No offense,” Zahra says coolly. “But you’re the only one of us who isn’t at risk, here.”

“Wait, that’s perfect,” Alex pipes up, turning to Henry in the booth. “Babe, you’re the solution.”

Henry feels taken aback. “Me?”

“You’re the only one Richards doesn’t need dirt on, you’re new and you don’t owe him anything. He can’t touch you.”

“So what do I do? Talk to him and ask him politely to stop blackmailing you all?”

He means it as a joke, but when he looks around the room, everyone is looking at him intently and seriously. Alex’s eyes are hopeful and pleading, and the unafraid part of Henry says he’s right, that it’s time to be brave again. He looks to Zahra, who shrugs, but the determination is visible in her features.

“Well,” she says. “It’s a start.”

  
  



	7. Richards Properties Inc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The office of Richards Properties Inc. is centered in the middle of an ugly, monochromatic business park in downtown Austin. It’s surrounded by perfectly manicured trees and neatly planted flowers that Henry is sure Alex would have something to say about if he were here. Everything about the building is artificial- when Henry called to set up an appointment earlier that morning, he was answered by an automated receptionist with a disturbingly realistic robot voice. When he arrives at the office, he’s greeted by a surprisingly real woman at the front desk, smiling an artificial smile with perfect white teeth.   
> CW for panic attack, blackmail, and emetophobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Discord server wanted fluff today...my apologies

The office of Richards Properties Inc. is centered in the middle of an ugly, monochromatic business park in downtown Austin. It’s surrounded by perfectly manicured trees and neatly planted flowers that Henry is sure Alex would have something to say about if he were here. Everything about the building is artificial- when Henry called to set up an appointment earlier that morning, he was answered by an automated receptionist with a disturbingly realistic robot voice. When he arrives at the office, he’s greeted by a surprisingly real woman at the front desk, smiling an artificial smile with perfect white teeth. 

“Hello,” he greets her with all the sincerity he can muster. She has these piercing eyes that seem to see through his  _ soul  _ that say  _ I know why you’re here, and I know you’re full of shit. _

“Hello,” she answers without emotion. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes, Henry Wales.” 

She types something in on her computer, expression unchanged. “Mr. Richards will be with you in just a moment.”

_ Mister Richards _ is not someone that Henry really wants to meet, and certainly not who he thought he’d be spending his Friday evening with. He’d rather be at home with Alex and David, curled up on the couch with his takeout and listening to Alex tell him for the hundredth time  _ really, Henry, you’re a whole-ass adult, you should learn how to cook.  _ But all of the small business owners had decided at their bar meeting that Henry has to be the one to talk to Richards. The anticipation makes his skin crawl. 

“Mister Wales?” A man’s voice calls. It’s Richards, peering around the wall with an incomprehensible smile on his face. “Step into my office.”

Richards is not a particularly physically imposing man- he’s tall, but no taller than Henry, muscular but not large. He looks like an average middle-aged white man, in all senses of the words. But there’s something...off about him. Something difficult to place; something eerie and vaguely threatening. He sets himself down in a hard, shiny and perfectly curated leather chair across from Richards’ desk, trying not to shift too much in the uncomfortable seat. 

“So,” Richards begins, folding his hands in front of him on the desk. “How can I help you, Mister Wales?”

“Well,” he clears his throat. He hasn’t felt this intimidated in a long, long time, and the feeling of his palms sweating is awful. He should have brought David. “I’d like to discuss the Market District”

A flicker of something distinctly not calm comes across Richards’ face, quickly replaced by a cruel, robotic sort of smile. “What about the Market District in particular?”

“I’d like to discuss an issue some of the renters have.”

“Ah, I see. And they’ve selected you as their representative because you’re the only one who doesn’t rent from me?” Henry swallows. Richards continues, “And you’ve come here to, what, exactly?”

“I’d like to ask, on the behalf of the renters, for a guaranteed, fixed rate on their rent. And for you to stop poaching their properties.”

Richards’ face twists as he leans forward in his seat. Henry feels himself involuntarily shrinking back into his chair. “And why would I do that?”

“I know you’ve been blackmailing them.”

“Do you? You have no proof, I assume?”

“I’ll find it.”

Richards smiles. “I’m sure you will. In the meantime,” he pauses and presses a button on his landline. “Judy? Would you mind bringing me that file?”

The woman from the front desk comes through and hands Richards a thick manilla file, stuffed with papers and tabbed with color-coded sticky notes. Henry swallows over the lump in his throat as Richards hands the file to him, telling him to take a look.

Inside, there are hundreds of photos, graphs, screenshotted emails, documenting every illegal or questionable thing Henry’s ever done. There’s records from rehab, notes written by court-appointed psychiatrists. Arrest records. Henry feels the telltale signs of a panic attack coming on, the constricting of his lungs, the way the floor seems to fall away from his feet. 

Five things he can see: his face, bruised and bloody, in a mugshot. Words on his arrest records that stick out,  _ possession of illegal substances  _ and _ public intoxication _ . Photos from the hospital of track marks and stomach pumps, a document from his hospital stay that definitely violates HIPPA outlining every aspect of his psychological well-being. Across from him, Richards is still smiling. 

“You see, Henry,” he explains without prompting. “I predicted something like this might happen- that they’d try and convince you that you have some kind of power over me because you don’t rent from me. It’s a nice thought, of course, but I’m afraid, as always, they have underestimated me.”

“How...how did you…”

“I have my ways. The only thing you need to worry about is keeping that file hidden. You wouldn’t want your boyfriend finding out about your past, would you? Such a nice young man- Alex, is it?”

Henry’s ears buzz as he focuses back on Richards, hands numb in his lap, gripping the file tightly. “What do you want?”

“I want your help, Henry. You are in the unique position to be privy to some details that I am not. You will be my ear to the ground.”

“You want me to spy for you?”

“Spy is such a harsh word. I’d just like you to...observe and report back to me. Maybe help me do some convincing, you’re closer to them than I am, they trust you.”

Bile rises up in Henry’s throat at the idea of spying on his friends; but what choice does he have? Alex is the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time. He can’t risk jeopardizing that. 

“Fine.”

“Excellent. I’ll expect a weekly meeting back here at my office, and you can take the file with you, I have copies. Oh, and don’t get any notions of telling anyone or about playing double agent. I’ll know.”

Numbly, Henry somehow manages to make it home, stuffing the file in the safe beneath his bed and changing the password. Alex doesn’t know about it, it should be a safe hiding spot. David is whining and pawing at his legs, and Henry lays down on the floor and lets the dog crawl up on his chest. 

Thousands of questions swirl around in his head; how did Richards get all this information? How will he know if Henry tells anyone? Does he have a similar file on Alex? David licks at his face, trying to coax him back to reality, but Henry’s eyes remain fixed on the ceiling as he hears the front door open.  _ Shit _ . He completely forgot he gave Alex his own key.

“Babe?” Alex calls from the living room. “You home? I can’t find my key to the shop, I think I might have left it here…”

Henry doesn’t respond, but David whines from his spot on Alex’s chest, and the bedroom door creaks open.  _ Please don’t come in, please don’t come in, please don’t come in. _

“Henry? Oh my god,” Alex drops to his knees beside Henry’s still body and brushes the hair back from his sweaty forehead. “Baby, you’re burning up, how long have you been like this?”

David barks and scrambles off, instead nudging insistently at Alex’s torso, pushing him towards Henry. He can’t speak, can’t move or he’ll vomit, and he doesn’t want Alex to see that, not now. He registers Alex’s body wrapping around his, lifting him up to a sitting position, dragging a trash can in front of him. He rubs his back as he retches and David licks the back of his hands. 

“You’ve gotta breathe, baby,” Alex coos, hands delicately stroking his hairline. “Five things, you can do it.”

“I can’t--”

“Five things.” Alex’s voice is soft and he presses soothing kisses to clammy skin. “Please, Henry.”

He takes a shuddering breath and lifts his head up. Blinking, he looks around the room, at David still whining, at Alex crouched next to him, brown eyes full of worry. Henry feels the urge to vomit again. 

“What do you see, Henry?” Alex prompts. “Do you see David?”

“Yes,” he croaks, throat raw and scratched. 

“What else? C’mon, baby.”

“You. The wastebasket, a mug. Your key, it’s on the nightstand.”

“Good, Henry, good. I’m gonna help you get in bed now, okay?”

Alex’s arms are around him, helping him up and into the too-large bed. Carefully he watches his boyfriend help him remove his clothing until he’s in his boxers and a comfortable sweatshirt, instinctively raising his arm for Alex to crawl beneath, head against his heartbeat. 

“Was it your dad?” he asks quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Henry lies, too exhausted to feel bad. Alex presses fluttering kisses to his neck, traces shapes on his chest with slender fingers. Henry closes his eyes and lets the warmth settle into his bones, slowly coming back to his body as his breathing slows and heartbeat returns to normal. 

“Do you want me to call Shaan?” Henry shakes his head, no. As far as Alex knows, Shaan is Henry’s therapist; he doesn’t want to deal with another lie today. “Wanna watch Bake Off and nap?”

“I thought you needed to get back to the shop?”

Alex grabs the remote for Henry’s small bedroom tv and flicks it on. “June can manage without me, she’s got her own key.”

Henry buries his face in familiar brown curls and kisses all he can. “Thank you, love.”

They spend the rest of the night curled up in bed, watching Bake Off and eating snacks with David snoring loudly in his doggy bed. They must fall asleep at some point, because when Henry wakes up the next morning, the TV is asking if they’re still watching, and Alex is curled up in his arms, sleeping softly.

For a moment, Henry doesn’t remember the events of the day before. He can lie in bed and run his hands through Alex’s hair and think that today is just any other day, and his life in Austin is still as pleasant and simple as before. But then Alex shifts, and he remembers. Richards, the file, the panic attack. It all comes crashing down on him, and he’s only pulled from the brink by David’s persistent licks at his face, distracting him from his thoughts. He’ll push back the worries and keep them away until tomorrow; today is important. Today, he will hold Alex close, and not let go, and maybe when he wakes up tomorrow, everything will be better, because he got to have Alex in his arms before everything goes wrong.

  
  



	8. The File

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex knows something is up. For the past few months Henry has been acting strange- avoiding questions, changing subjects, taking phone calls early in the morning and late at night. Twice this week he’s come home late claiming to be at the shop when Alex knows he’s not there; he can always rely on Nora to be truthful, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for mentions of Henry's struggle, including references to addiction, past attempts, and self harm.

Alex knows something is up. For the past few months Henry has been acting strange- avoiding questions, changing subjects, taking phone calls early in the morning and late at night. Twice this week he’s come home late claiming to be at the shop when Alex knows he’s not there; he can always rely on Nora to be truthful, at least. 

“I just don’t understand,” he laments to June one afternoon at the flower shop. “Why would he ask me to move in with him if he’s barely going to be home? Honestly, I don’t know how much longer I can take him lying to me. And he thinks I don’t know! Do I really seem like that much of an idiot that I wouldn’t be able to tell?”

“No, Alex, of course not,” June soothes him, crouching down so they’re face-to-face where he’s sitting on the ground. “You can be an idiot sometimes, but not about this. Have you talked to him about how you’re feeling?”

“I’ve tried. He just changes the subject. Like this morning, I asked him who he was talking to on the phone and he straight up lied to my face, and then he immediately changed the subject. I just don’t know what to do anymore, June.”

June sighs. “I think the only thing left to do is to confront him.”

“I know, I just…” he runs his hands through his hair and tugs hard at the ends, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I just don’t want it to be true.”

“Oh, Alexander…” June reaches out and gently pulls his hands from his hair. “I know it hurts, but at least you’ll know. And fuck him if it is true, he doesn’t deserve you.” 

He takes a shaky breath and nods, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. Fuck Henry- fuck his lying, fuck his cheating. Fuck his stupid anonymous phone calls and his charming smile and his kind eyes. He can get on his motorcycle and crash, for all Alex cares. 

_ That’s not true _ , the little voice in his head says.  _ You love him and you know it, no matter how much you pretend to hate him.  _

He sniffs and sets his jaw, looking up at June with steel eyes. “I’m meeting him for lunch today. I’ll confront him then.” 

June bends her head down to kiss his forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

At twelve on the dot, Alex strides inside Queen Mary, straight-postured and determined. He’s mustered up all his courage for this, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t leave with answers. Even if it turns out to be the worst, at least he’ll know. His heart will break, but he’ll have the truth. He’s already got a bag packed in June’s car just in case he needs to stay with her for the night- he’s prepared, he’s ready. He’s ready. He’s ready. 

“Hey, Nora,” he says as casually as he can. “Henry around? We’re meeting up for lunch.”

Nora bites her lip. “He’s in a meeting, but it’ll probably be done soon. You could probably go ahead and wait by his office.”

A meeting. Henry doesn’t _ have _ meetings, he’d tell Alex if he had a meeting. Who’s even around to have a meeting with? 

Unless. No, he shakes the thought out of his head. It can’t be that. It can’t, there’s no way Henry would do that to him. They live together, for god’s sake! He’d know if Henry- if he were-

“I can’t do this anymore,” Henry’s voice comes from behind the slightly ajar office door, and Alex holds his breath and presses himself against the outer wall. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping. He shouldn’t. But this might be his only chance. “It’s destroying my relationship with Alex. I can’t keep lying to him.”

Alex suppresses a shocked laugh.  _ Meeting, my ass. _

“Need I remind you what’s at stake, here?” another man’s voice answers- it’s cruel, and grating, and vaguely familiar, but Alex just can’t place it. 

“I can’t- I can’t--” he can hear the quivering in Henry’s voice, the signs of an oncoming panic attack. He can hear David whining from his doggy bed in the corner. 

“It’s up to you, Henry. But keep in mind, if I find out you’ve crossed me, and I  _ will _ find out, I go to Alex and tell him everything. You wouldn’t want him to find out, now would you?”

Henry pauses, and Alex can imagine him- inside the office, eyes closed, counting five things he can see. Something aches in Alex’s chest behind all the anger, dull and wrenching pain. 

“No,” Henry replies after a while. “No, anything but that. He can never know.” 

“Good. I’ll be expecting your call tomorrow morning, then.” There’s a rustline inside the room, and he can just catch Henry saying  _ I’m meeting Alex for lunch, wait inside until I’m gone _ , and then Alex is scrambling to sit in a chair, to pretend he’s just arrived, and he catches Henry saying a name. A name that Alex must mishear, because it distinctly sounds like Henry has just said  _ Mister Richards. _

Richards. Richards, that money hungry bastard who’s driven their friends,  _ Henry’s _ friends, out of their businesses.  _ Richards _ is who Henry’s been cheating on Alex with, of all people. It can’t be true. It can’t. It can’t it can’t it can’t it can’t-

“Alex?” Henry’s standing over him looking stupidly sympathetic, and Alex jumps. “I’m sorry, love, I was in a meeting. I didn’t keep you waiting too long, did I?”

“Oh,” Alex’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat, head still spinning. “No, not long.”

Henry places a hand to the small of Alex’s back, and the gentleness of it makes Alex want to puke. “Alex, are you alright? You’re looking a little pale.”

“No, yeah, I’m fine, baby. Let’s go have lunch, okay?”

“Alright,” Henry doesn’t look entirely convinced. _ Good _ , Alex thinks,  _ let him be the one to worry this time. _ “The falafel cart, then?”

“Actually,” Alex swallows and digs his fingernails into his palms. He can do this. He  _ can.  _ “D’you mind if we stop at home first? I wanna grab my jacket.”

Henry looks a little hesitant, but he concedes, leaving Nora to watch the store and David. They take the motorcycle, Alex gripping no tighter than he absolutely has to to Henry’s torso. He smells intoxicatingly of leather and ink, the bastard. Attractive even when Alex is outrageously angry with him. 

He does not eat when they get home, even after Henry lovingly reheats his leftover curry for him, just pushes at it with his fork. He feels Henry’s eyes on him, the anxious twitch of his fingers as he gingerly sets his fork down.    
“Something wrong, love?”

Love. How dare he use a pet name right now, when he’s so obviously been lying for months. Stupid, Alex, how could he be so  _ stupid. _

“Yes,” he says before he can think about it more. “Yes, actually, there is.”

Henry’s eyes go wide; Alex can see the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. Good. Make him sweat a little. “Oh.”

“I want to know,” he pushes his plate away from himself and lays his hands on the table. “How long, exactly, you’ve been sleeping with Richards.”

If it’s possible to choke on air, Alex thinks Henry does exactly that. His already wide eyes bug out of his head, and he clenches his hands so tightly his knuckles turn white. 

“What?” is all he says, dumbly. “I don’t--”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Henry,” Alex snaps. “You don’t think I know? All the phone calls and meetings and late nights at the shop, I  _ know, _ Henry.”

“Alex, I swear, I have not been cheating on you. With anyone, but especially not with Richards.” He reaches across the table, but Alex snatches his hands away before he can reach them. 

“Then what exactly have you been up to with him, Henry? Can you explain that?”

Henry’s mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again. His voice is small when he finally speaks. “I can’t tell you.”

“Oh,  _ bullshit, _ Henry! What the fuck is your problem? What is so horrible that would make you lie to me for  _ months, _ huh? What dirt could Richards possibly have on you that’s so bad?” Henry is quiet, looking resigned, and it makes Alex’s blood boil. “So that’s it, huh? You’re just gonna keep your mouth shut?”

“You don’t want to know, Alex,” he replies meekly. “Trust me.”

“Trust you?  _ Trust  _ you? When you’ve been lying for- how long? Since we met?” Henry’s eyes shifting to the floor is enough of an answer. Alex stands and gathers his coat. “Fine. I’m leaving, then. When you’re ready to tell the truth, you know where to find me.” He makes sure to slam the door on the way out. 

A week passes, and still Henry has not spoken to him. He hasn’t even bothered to try- no missed calls, no texts, no wistful glances through their respective glass doors. He’s been sleeping on June’s couch for seven whole days, and Henry isn’t even  _ trying _ . 

He can tell he’s miserable. He can see it in the dark purple bags under his eyes, in the way that David is in his lap more often than not. And intel from Nora, of course. But Alex refuses to feel sorry for him; he’s done this to himself, after all. 

On the tenth day, when Alex hasn’t seen Henry at the shop for two days, he gets a phone call from an out of state number. He frowns at the cell phone as he answers, ready to yell at some telemarketers. 

“Hello?”

“Hello,” a voice with a posh English accent answers from the other line, but it’s not Henry. “Is this Alex Claremont-Diaz?”

“Speaking.”

“My name is Shaan Shrivastiva, I’m a friend of Henry’s. So sorry to bother you, but he’s not answering his phone.”

“Oh. Well, he’s not here right now.”

“Would you mind delivering a message for me, then?”

He clears his throat. “Henry and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms, nowadays.”

“Oh,” the voice heaves a heavy sigh. “Well. That complicates things a bit. I need to make some calls, if you see him, tell him to give me a ring, will you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thank you, Alex.”

“No problem.”

Well that was fucking weird. Why would Henry’s therapist call Alex of all people? And why is it a big deal if he’s ghosting? Sure, it’s probably not great, but it can’t be that bad. Right?

On the eleventh day, curiosity wins. Alex uses his key to let himself into Henry’s apartment- just to make sure he’s alive, he tells himself, and to get some of his things, and then he’ll go. Henry isn’t home, but David is, so he can’t be too far. The dog seems far too excited to see Alex, barking and pawing at his legs. He bends down to give him a pet. 

“Hey, buddy. I missed you too.”

David is insistent, though, obviously not content with just being pet. He latches on to Alex’s pant leg and tugs him in the direction of the bedroom. No matter what Alex does or says, David keeps tugging until he’s at the edge of the bed, and then his little doggy boddy is peering beneath it. 

“What’s wrong, David, huh?” Alex gets down on his belly and looks under the bed where David is pointed at, barking and pawing at the carpet. 

There, under the bed, is a small, flat safe, barely noticeable in the dark. David grabs it with his teeth and pulls it out, nudging it at Alex. Something feels wrong about trying to open it, like an invasion of privacy, but he feels it’s warranted. If Henry wants to lie, let him lie, but Alex will be damned if he doesn’t do some investigative work. Especially with David practically forcing him to look. 

The combination is Henry’s birthday, the idiot, and Alex will have to give him a serious lecture on passwords later. Inside the safe is Henry’s passport, a gold signet ring, and a large manilla envelope that David immediately touches with his paw. Sitting back on his heels, Alex takes the envelope out of the safe, and reads. 

He’s finished with the file by the time Henry gets home, and he almost forgets he’s not supposed to be here. He forgets, for a moment, that he and Henry are fighting, that he thought Henry...it’s not that he’s not angry anymore. He’s still very, very angry, because this means Henry has still been lying to him since the beginning. But it’s different, now that he knows the truth. 

He hears Henry’s voice in the kitchen, and he sounds so goddamn miserable, Alex’s heart breaks. “David, what’s wrong? Alright, alright, I’m coming…” The bedroom door opens, and Henry’s eyes briefly meet Alex’s before they fix themselves on the file in his hands. “Where did you get that.”

“Shaan called,” Alex explains, not moving from his spot on the floor. “He was worried about you. I came to check on you, and David got this from under the bed...Henry, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why do you think, Alex?” Henry no longer looks miserable, he looks angry, and his voice is rough and gravelly and harsher than Alex has ever heard. “You’ve seen what’s inside that file- how could I- you are the best thing that has happened to me in a very, very long time. I wasn’t about to jeopardize that.”

“You could have told me; I would have understood--”

“That’s what everyone says,” There are tears in Henry’s eyes, now, obscuring deep blue. “Everyone says they understand, and then it gets to be too much for them, and then they leave. They always,  _ always _ , leave, and I have worked too bloody hard to get away from all this just to let it happen again.”

Alex softens. “Is that why you moved here? To get away from your past?”

Henry sighs and lets David pull him to the ground, the dog immediately draping himself in his lap. “I...I was on the brink of a relapse. London, it’s just too  _ close _ to everything. I couldn’t go anywhere without reminders.”

“Henry…”

“Did you read everything?”

“I did,” he puts the file back in the safe and locks it. “But I need the whole story from you, including everything with Richards. I need to hear it from you.”

Henry, surprisingly, doesn’t argue. He looks resigned to his fate, calmed a little by the rise and fall of David’s chest. He closes his eyes. 

“My father died just after I graduated from university, you know that. I...I didn’t take it well. None of us did, really, but I- you saw the hospital record. And when that didn’t work, I fell into the wrong crowd. I started drinking, and using anything I could, just to make myself numb. I got into fights, I got arrested, I was put in the hospital more times than I can count. I didn’t want to admit it, then, but it was just another method of suicide. 

Shaan is my sponsor. He led my group in rehab- he set me up with David from a service dog agency. He got me an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlor. I’m supposed to check in with him once a week, that’s why he called you, he probably thinks I…” he takes a deep breath. “When I went to meet Richards, that day, he had that file ready. I don’t know how he got it, but he told me if I didn’t cooperate, he’d give it to you, and I couldn’t let that happen. You’re too important. So I agreed. I don’t know what exactly he’s up to, but he wants me to spy for him. Keep him informed of anything important in the neighborhood.”

“So all the calls, all the late nights, those were all Richards?”

“Yes,” he reaches for Alex’s hand, and he doesn’t pull away this time. “Alex, I kept secrets, I lied, but I would never cheat on you. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I need you to believe that.”

“I do. I believe you, I just...I understand why you lied. I’m still really fucking angry with you, but I understand.” Carefully, he wraps his arms around Henry’s neck, pulling him in when David jumps off his lap. He feels Henry’s arms wrap around him, the tentative kisses he places to Alex’s hairline. 

“I am so, so sorry, Alex.”

“I know you are. No more lies, please Henry. No secrets.”

“No more secrets. I promise, love, no more.”

“We’re going to stay in this apartment and not leave the bed for the rest of the day, okay? And after that, we’re going after Richards. Do you think you can do that?”

Henry sniffs and wipes his eyes, but his jaw is set with determination. “Let’s take the bastard down.”

  
  



	9. Surveillance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex juts out his chin. “I trust Henry. We can do this.”
> 
> Zahra grins wickedly from her spot on the floor. “Then let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end! Thank you everyone for your kind comments and the kudos! :)  
> PS this chapter was fueled by DayQuil and spite so I apologize for any errors

It takes another month before there’s a breakthrough. Alex has officially moved in, and his relationship with Henry couldn’t be stronger. Since the incident with the file, they’ve agreed to a no-secrets policy- Henry still won’t talk about Richards outside of the safety of their apartment, but it’s a start. Henry is still meeting with Richards, but acting as a double agent now that the threat of blackmail is gone. Still, it hasn’t stopped Richards from poaching; Alex’s rent on the shop has gone up by another hundred dollars, and the stubborn idiot refuses to let Henry help pay for it.

Henry is home for the night, hunched over the kitchen table, working on a sketch for his latest tattoo while David naps at his feet. He’ll give Shaan his weekly phone call tomorrow night, and he texted Bea and his mother today, and even sent an email to Philip. There’s the characteristic crash that signals Alex coming through the door, and David perks up and runs to meet him. He hears Alex laugh, and the sound is enough to bring a smile to his own face.

“Honey, I’m home!” Alex calls from the hallway. 

“In the kitchen!”

Nearly forgetting about the sketch, Henry quickly folds up the piece of paper, but not before Alex sees and raises an eyebrow. 

“And what is that?”

“Nothing,” Henry lies, hiding the paper behind his back. Alex makes a grab for it, but Henry ducks out of the way, distracting him with a chaste kiss. Alex pouts.

“I thought we said no more secrets.”

“It’s not a secret. It’s a _surprise_.”

Alex huffs, but he’s quickly coaxed out of his sour mood by Henry’s lips on his cheek and hands on his waist. He smells faintly like roses, and when his hands slide around to the nape of Henry’s neck, Henry can feel the bandages wrapped around the tips of his fingers. Briefly, he wonders how something so simple as a bandage can remind him of the person he loves so dearly, how it’s even possible that feeling something as insignificant as another person’s fingertips could make his heart ache so much. 

“Baby,” Alex coaxes, running his fingers lightly through the hair at the nape of Henry’s neck. “You alright? Lost you there for a minute.”

Henry blinks and smiles, and kisses Alex’s lips chastely. “I’m alright. I was just thinking about how much I love you.” He moves his lips to Alex’s forehead. “But I’m not showing you the paper.”

Alex heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. But I’m picking what we’re eating for dinner tonight.”

Henry grins and gives him one last kiss. “Deal.”

Alex picks Thai food, and the two of them find themselves on the couch eating pad thai and watching Bake Off, David lapping up any crumbs from the carpet. Henry lies with his head in Alex’s lap, Alex’s deft fingers running absently through his hair. 

“You need a haircut,” he comments. 

Henry hums, eyes on Alex watching the movie. “I was thinking about growing it out; I think it would look very _rock and roll_ , if I wore it long.” Alex snorts, and Henry swats him, and they have to pause their episode of Bake Off to have an aggressive pillow fight that ends with the both of them kissed senseless and ready for bed. 

Once they’ve showered and changed, Henry sits on the edge of the bed with Alex in his lap, replacing his bandages and sealing them with a kiss to each fingertip. 

“There you go, love,” he presses a final kiss to the palm of Alex’s hand. “I suppose it would be useless for me to ask you to wear gloves again?”

Alex slings his arms around Henry’s neck dramatically. “I _told_ you, babe.”

“Yes, yes, I know. ‘Gloves are for quitters.’” Alex grins impishly and tugs him down to lie in their bed, Henry’s arms around his waist and Alex’s back against his chest. Henry closes his eyes and nuzzles into the back of Alex’s neck, inhaling the scent of roses.   
  
“Hey, Hen?”

“Hm?”

“Could you swing by the shop tomorrow? I need some help changing out the display.”

“Of course, love. I should be done the same time that you are, shall we take the bike?”

Alex yawns and snuggles deeper into Henry’s chest. “Supposed to rain. Should take the car.”

“Only if I get to drive.”

“Deal.”

Alex isn’t exactly a bad driver. He’s never been in an accident, no tickets or fines; on paper, he’s perfectly fine, great even. But in practice, well. Let’s just say they both prefer it when Henry drives. So, that morning Alex climbs into the passenger’s seat with ease, and Henry gives him a peck on the cheek before buckling himself in. David pokes his head out the window of the back seat, tail wagging. 

The new shipment for the display is already at the shop when they get there, and Henry happily helps Alex carry them inside. Alex sits on the edge of the welcome desk, intently watching the way the tattoos on Henry’s arms flex with his muscles. 

“Enjoying the view?” Henry asks with a smirk, and Alex shrugs unabashedly. “Why don’t you start unpacking these boxes and I’ll work on getting everything old off the display, hm?” Alex agrees with a kiss and settles on the floor with David to unpack. Henry puts his playlist on over the speaker and sets to work on the display. Taking off an old vase, putting it in a box. Taking off a stuffed animal, putting it in a box. Taking off another vase and knocking over a loose screw- he bends over to pick him up, rolling his eyes at Alex’s wolf-whistle. 

Henry freezes. It’s not a screw. 

“Hen? You okay?”

He straightens up too quickly, almost dropping the not-screw, and clears his throat several times. Alex is looking at him skeptically, eyebrow raised. 

“Nothing, love. Just dropped a screw, that’s all.” Henry puts a finger to his lips and makes eyes at Alex, a look that says _we need to talk._ Alex nods and turns toward the jingle of the door opening, standing up and wiping off his jeans with his hands. 

“Mr. Richards,” he says sweetly in a southern, _bless her heart_ kind of way. “What a nice surprise. How’d your wife like those roses?”

“Oh, loved them.” He smiles tightly and gives a curt not in Henry’s direction. “Mister Wales.”

“Can I help you with something, Mister Richards?” Alex interjects, clearly seeing the tension in Henry’s jaw.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” Richards responds, not looking sorry at all. “There seems to be an issue with your rent check this month.”

Alex frowns, but he shoots Henry a glare that tells him not to interfere. “Oh? What was the problem?”

“Check bounced, I’m afraid.”

Henry does not move, pinned by the looming figure of Richards and Alex’s warning not to interfere; hopelessly, he watches Alex dig out his checkbook and write a new check for the rent- with a $100 late charge. Richards leaves with another order of roses for his wife to pick up tomorrow, and Henry immediately takes two long strides over to Alex and gathers him up in his arms. Alex presses kisses all over his face, his nose, his forehead, his cheeks. Henry drops his head to mumble in Alex’s ear. 

“Let’s get some air, love.”

Once they’re outside and Richards’ car is gone from the parking lot, Alex makes Henry sit down on a bench and holds his face in his hands. Henry is pale and shaking, both with anger and something more akin to shame than fear, and he feels like he might throw up. 

“Look at me, baby,” Alex soothes. “It’s okay. Five things.”

Henry shakes his head. “I’m grounded, it’s not that. I’m just so _angry_.”

“I know, H.” He brushes a sweaty strand of hair from Henry’s forehead and frowns. “You’re shaking.”

“How can he do that? Just walk in there like he- like he owns the place--”

“He _does_ own the place.”

“It’s not fair, Alex. And I guarantee there was nothing wrong with your check, he just wanted the extra cash from the late fee.”

“We’ll deal with it,” he reassures Henry with a kiss to his forehead. “What was it you found earlier?”

Henry swallows and straightens up, regains his composure. He needs to be the leader right now- the rock, the shoulder to lean on. After so long hurting Alex, he _needs_ this, to take charge. He needs to take Richards out.

“We need to call the rest of the neighborhood.”

They meet at Alex and Henry’s apartment. Zahra, Cash, Nora, Hunter, Amy, and some new faces as well. Word has spread about their schemes to other business owners who have been put out by Richards, and Alex has gotten a lawyer friend involved, a man named Rafael Luna, who, according to Alex, has a personal grudge against Richards.

Everyone squeezes into the living room, either stuffing themselves on the couch and loveseat or sitting on the floor with steaming mugs of tea and coffee. Henry stands at the center of the room, Alex giving him an encouraging look from his spot on the loveseat, and clears his throat. Everyone quiets and turns their gazes to him. Henry swallows. 

“Hello. I know this isn’t our usual meeting place, and I apologize if you had to go out of your way,” he pauses, looks to Alex, who nods. He continues. “As most of you know, I spoke with Richards months ago about getting you all a deal. What you don’t know is that, when I went to speak to him…” he takes a deep breath. “He had a file on me in his office; a file of things that I didn’t want to be found, things he shouldn’t have been able to get. He threatened me with it, and asked me to spy for him.

He told me that he would know if I were acting as a double agent. When I had meetings with him, I found information about all of us- our conversations, our daily whereabouts, anything that would be useful in getting us to do what he says. I didn’t know how he had gotten all of it at the time, but this morning...I found a bug. Hidden in the front display of Alex’s shop. And I think it’s safe to assume that the rest of you have them hidden in your businesses as well.”

Murmurs break out in the living room. People frantically check their phones and text their employees, and it takes Henry another solid minute before he can get them to quiet down again. 

“What’s the plan?” Zahra asks. Henry looks to Alex, who stands and takes Henry’s hand in his own. 

“We beat him at his own game,” Alex says. “I’ll put the bug back in the shop so Richards doesn’t suspect anything. Tomorrow morning, Richards is coming to pick up a bouquet of roses that I’ll have planted my own bug in.”

Henry squeezes his hand. “He still thinks I’m working for him, and only him. We have a meeting scheduled at the tattoo parlor tomorrow, after he gets the flowers. I’ll get him to admit to what he’s been doing and get the bug before he leaves. While he’s distracted, Nora will be at his office using the password I’ve obtained to get into Richards’ computer. She’ll send all the files and evidence in an encrypted message to Mr. Luna, who has offered his legal services to us.”

“I’ll take the bug from Henry and get all the evidence prepared,” Luna says, arms folded over his chest. “We’ll file a class-action suit. It’s not going to be easy, but our evidence is strong, and if we get a good judge, we can win.”

“What’s going to stop him from continuing to raise the rent while the lawsuit is happening?” Cash asks. Henry speaks again. 

“I’ve seen Richards’ assets. He’s collected a lot of money from you all, but he’s also spent a lot of that money, and he’s getting desperate. Which is why I’m going to offer to buy Richards Properties from him, and he’s not going to refuse. You’ll all have a fair, fixed rate, and those of you who have lost your businesses will be offered three months of free rent to get you back on your feet.”

More murmuring amongst the crowd. Henry understands; these are close-knit people, and Henry’s only been with them for less than a year. Alex had been worried about the three months rent idea, but then he saw Henry’s bank statement and nearly fainted. And it’s not just that he has the money and this is a good way to use it; Henry likes these people. He wants to help them.

The group quiets and looks back. Henry’s grip on Alex’s hand tightens. 

“Alex?” Amy asks tentatively. “What do you think?”

Alex juts out his chin. “I trust Henry. We can do this.”

Zahra grins wickedly from her spot on the floor. “Then let’s do it.”

  
  



	10. Epilogue: The Tattoo Artist & The Florist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."  
> -A. A. Milne, The Complete Tales of Winnie the Pooh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the final chapter! thanks everyone for sticking with the story, I hope you enjoy the ending :) your comments and kudos are so appreciated  
> PS I'm still sick so I may or may not have been half delirious on DayQuil when I wrote this, I apologize for any errors  
> As always thank you to everyone on the Gray Area server for being so supportive, ily all

They get to the shops early the next morning. Alex gives Henry a long, lingering good luck kiss before they retreat to their respective buildings, David at the flower shop today, snoozing amongst the daisies. Nora is already at her desk, nervously picking at her cuticles. 

“Schedule for today, Nora?” Henry asks, setting down his bag. 

“All cleared like you asked,” she hesitates a moment, worrying at a nail. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Henry?”

“It’s too late to turn back now. And besides, I…” he glances over at the flower shop. “I’d do anything for Alex. If this is what he needs, there’s no looking back.”

Nora puts her hand over his and pats it soothingly. “You’re a good boyfriend, Henry.”

“Tell me that again after we’ve gotten Richards.”

By the time Richards comes in, arm full of roses, Henry’s palms are sweating and his limbs are shaking. Alex sends him a quick warning text accompanied by a kissy-face emoji that takes a fraction of the weight from his shoulders before his heart seizes up again at the opening of the door. Nora shoots him a private, encouraging smile before looking away and pretending to type at her computer; Henry straightens up to full posture and extends a confident hand to Richards. 

“Mister Richards,” he greets formally, trying his best to keep his voice from breaking. He longs for David, but he had left him with Alex on purpose- Richards knows David is a service dog, which means he _also_ knows how David reacts when Henry is feeling anxious. It was a hard sacrifice, but it’ll be worth it if this plan goes off without a hitch.

He places a friendly hand on Richards’ back and guides him to the back office, keeping an eye out to make sure he doesn't see Nora slipping out the side door. He tries his hardest to keep his glance away from the flowers, cradled in one arm while Richards checks his watch on the other. 

“Let’s make this quick,” he says- quick, to the point, dangerous. “What have you got for me this morning, Henry?”

Henry clears his throat and clenches his fists once, twice. Five things- the flowers, the desk, Richards, a cup of pencils, his coat hanging on the rack. Richards has nothing to hold against him anymore. He can do this. He can do this. 

“The other shop owners are complaining about the increase in rent, but not to me,” he lies easily. “I think they’re getting suspicious.”

Richards raises one grayed eyebrow. “Suspicious?”

“Of my part in all this. They might suspect...that is, I think Alex is starting to notice--”

“I told you the risks when I asked you to spy for me, I would have hoped you hadn’t forgotten. One misstep and every piece of information I have on you goes to Alex.”

“So what do I do?”

“Fix it. Make up a lie, I don’t care, just make it work. I’d really hate to make Alex play a part in all this as well.”

Henry swallows. “You have a file on Alex, too?”

“I have a file on everyone, Henry. And I won’t hesitate to use the information I have to make this plan go smoothly. So if you don’t want Alex wrapped up in this too, you’ll make something up. Understood?”

Henry hesitates. Clench, unclench. Five things. Buy Nora a little more time. 

“How do you get all this information, Richards? You had things about me that normal people can’t get.”

“You can get anything with the right amount of money, Henry,” Richards laughs harshly. “The business of blackmail is a very lucrative business, you’ll learn that, the more we work together.” Henry wants to vomit at the thought of doing anything _together_ with Richards, but he swallows it down. Richards taps his foot impatiently. “Is that all you have for today? I need to get going.”

“Yes, that’s all. Let me show you out.” 

With one guiding hand on Richards’ lower back and the other discreetly reaching behind to pluck the bug from the roses, he leads his guest to the back exit and watches him go. He releases a deep breath once Richards is out of sight, pockets the bug carefully, and texts Alex and Nora. 

**Two Lovebirds & Alex**

**9:08 am**

**Package obtained. Eagle is landing.**

**IRL Chaos Demon**

**9:09 am**

**What’s with the code words? This isn’t the CIA**

**Alex**

**9:11 am**

**you know nothing about the delicate art of espionage**

**9:11 am**

**The point is, Nora, you have 20 minutes tops.**

**IRL Chaos Demon**

**9:13 am**

**Arranging the getaway car now, boss**

The rest of the day passes by slowly. Henry waits. And waits. And waits, and waits, and waits. The suspense is fraying his nerves, and he’s glad for once that he has an empty schedule. He wouldn’t be able to compose himself enough to tattoo otherwise. He passes the rest of the day at the flower shop with Alex, David in his lap while he sits in the back and helps clip stems. Alex is amazing, as always, offering reassuring kisses on the cheek when he gets the chance and making Henry horribly tasting but well-intentioned cups of tea. 

At five pm precisely, he and Alex’s phones both buzz with an email from Rafael Luna. _Evidence obtained. You ready to do this, folks?_

Henry looks to Alex, and Alex looks to Henry, and they nod in tandem. 

The trial is long and winding, as Luna had warned them, and it drains Henry more than he ever thought it could. Luna’s lawyers are ruthless, using Henry’s criminal record in an attempt to smear the whole suit, but Luna stands his ground. Every day feels like an eternity; the court room is too hot, the voices are too loud. He doesn’t have to go every day, but he does, and Alex is right there with him, squeezing his hand. 

A week into the trial, Henry pays a visit to Richards Properties Inc. It’s a risk, one that he probably shouldn’t be taking, but Henry is nothing if not true to his word. He marches right past the shocked secretary and plants himself in the uncomfortable leather chair across from Richards’ desk. He doesn’t look surprised, exactly, more annoyed, like observing a bug that’s flown into his windshield and is now obscuring his view. 

“Mister Wales,” he greets without emotion. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Relaxed for the first time in this office, Henry offers a polite smile and leans forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. 

“I’ve come to offer you a deal.”

Richards scoffs. “Me? With the way this case is going, I’d say _you_ are the last person to be offering _me_ anything.”

Henry only smiles, expression unchanged. “It’s not about the case. I’d like to take Richards Properties Inc. off your hands.” Richards laughs fully, in a cruel, mocking way, but there’s calculation behind his eyes. Henry can see it; has seen it before, in the faces of those who doubted him, in dealers who he’d convinced to offer him a space on their couch as well as a discount. 

“And why would I do that?” Richards asks. 

“I’ve seen your finances, Mister Richards. Even if you win this case, which I highly doubt, you’ll be in debt for the rest of your life from your legal fees. No matter how much you raise the rent, you can’t raise it enough to pay off everything you owe.”

Richards’ eyes narrow. “Why not just settle out of court, then? Why bother dragging me through this whole case when you’ll be the one paying me?”

“Because it isn’t about the money, Mister Richards. I have plenty of that. This case is about keeping you from taking advantage of anyone else ever again. It’is about getting justice for all the lives you’ve ruined. And personally, for me? This is my revenge. 

You blackmailed me, nearly ruined my relationship with Alex. I couldn’t part with that large an amount of money if I couldn’t humiliate you first. And we _will_ be humiliating you, no matter who wins. Even after this case is over, do you still think anyone is going to sell to you? Buy from you? Invest in your company? I’m not a betting man, Mister Richards, but you are. Tell me, what do you think the odds are, that you’ll have any business after we’ve exposed you?”

Richards doesn’t speak, just leans back in his chair and attempts at keeping his composure, but Henry can tell. Despite Richards’ efforts to keep a calm facade, there’s no helping the vein that pops out just above Richards’ left eyebrow. He takes it as a personal victory. 

Alex is on the living room floor when he gets home, sorting through pages and pages of court documents. Henry sets their takeout down on the counter and comes up behind Alex, bringing two large hands to rub his boyfriend’s shoulders from behind. Alex hums and leans in to the touch, tilting his head up to catch a kiss from Henry.

“How’d it go?”

Henry shrugs. “He’s stubborn, but he’ll break.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how good did it feel to stand up to him like that.” 

“Oh, ten, definitely.” 

Alex grins and kisses him again. “That’s hot.” 

Henry raises an eyebrow and helps Alex to his feet. “Is it?”

“Shut up and take off your pants.”

After, when the chinese food has gone cold on the kitchen counter and Henry’s breathing has slowed to a normal rate, he lies in bed with Alex’s cheek against his heartbeat, tracing the unmarked skin of his back. He’d still love to put some art on it, but all in due time. Alex’s curls tickle the bottom of his chin and their legs are tangled in each other and sweaty sheets, and Henry wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. He wants to spend every day like this, with Alex in his bed, falling asleep against his chest. He sits up suddenly against the headboard, and Alex lifts his head to peer up at him with lazily squinted eyes. 

“‘Sup, babe?”

“I was just thinking,” he takes Alex’s left hand in his and runs his thumb along the ring finger. “How pretty this hand would look with a ring on it.”

Alex’s eyes widen, and Henry only smiles as he brings his hands to Alex’s hips and hauls him into his laps. Alex places his hands on Henry’s shoulders and looks him in the eyes, suddenly deadly serious. 

“I swear to god, Wales, if you’re fucking with me--”

He silences him with a kiss to his left palm. “I’m not. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life, Alex. I don’t know what’s going to happen after this trial is over, but...I know that whatever happens, I want you there with me.”

“You want to get married?”

“I do. Do you?”

Alex blinks back tears and smiles through a sniffle. “I do. I really, really do.” 

They don’t end up winning the case. Richards’ lawyers are too good, and in Alex’s opinion the jury too biased, but it doesn’t matter. Newspapers all over town are splattered with the headlines _Richards Admits to Blackmail in Shocking Tape_ and _Richards Properties Inc. Sold as Owner Flees Texas._ In the end, Henry gets the company for a steal, with the promise of hiring a PI to make sure that Richards doesn't get up to his old tricks. He keeps his promise to the shop owners- Amy comes back and gets her three months of free rent, and the rest get a reduced, fixed rate that Alex tells him is ridiculously low, but Henry couldn’t care less. 

They have a small ceremony in the green area with David as an adorable ring bearer, and have an after-party at the tattoo parlor after, decorated with flowers courtesy of Alex. They drink champagne (Henry, Ginger Ale) out of red solo cups and dance to cheesy wedding music over the loudspeaker, and Henry doesn’t remember ever being that happy in his life. Alex cries when Henry reveals his wedding present- a half-sleeve of flowers, all of Alex’s favorites, previously hidden by his suit. They go to London for their honeymoon where Alex completely charms Henry’s entire family and Pez, and it’s Henry’s turn to cry when Alex hugs Shaan and thanks him for saving his husband. The name _Richards_ never comes up again.

On the corner of North Lamar Boulevard and West 5th Street in Austin, Texas, there is a flower shop nestled right in the heart of the Market District. Within walking distance is a Whole Foods and a taco restaurant, and a beautiful view of Lady Bird Lake from the bay window. 

Across the strip, there is another cluster of shops, separated by a small, lush walking path covered in green grass and sun-baked benches. In that second strip sits an empty storefront, with a large window that just peeks into the flower shop across the street. 

It’s a beautifully charming building, ivy-covered red brick and large windows, polished original hardwood and industrial ceilings. There’s a sleek black counter at the front for a reception area and plenty of space on the front for a sign that reads _Queen Mary Tattoos & Flower Shop. _

If you look in through the big glass door, you can see the daily lives of its two owners and their dog. Usually they’re busy, breezing past each other with ease and only having the time to stop for a quick kiss on the cheek. Other times the shop is closed, and the lights are dimmed, and it’s just the two of them and a beagle named David, sharing a glass of wine while one wraps the other’s fingers in bandages after a busy day. They have parties for their wedding anniversary there. When they become parents, they let their children sit in the back office with June and color or arrange miniature bouquets. 

On this day, if you look close enough, you can see a small group of people gathered around the front desk. The tattoo artist, hair a little grayer than before but looking not much older, wearing a polka-dot party hat and bouncing a baby girl in his lap, while the florist holds a little boy on his hip and looks on, smiling. The cake is home made, and shaped into the number _10._ A gold coin with the same number on it rests in the balm of the little girl’s hand- a sobriety chip, ten years. Shaan, who has an arm around Zahra now, flew all the way out to Texas to deliver it. The party guests sing a funny little made-up song, the children’s voices off-key and loud, and the tattoo artist smiles. Then he closes his eyes and blows out the candles. When the little boy tugs on his shirt and asks what he wished for, he counts five things in the room, and tells him that he has all he could ever wish for, right here.


End file.
